“What ‘dot’ could he have given his daughter to induce our great orator to marry her?” said Georges.
“Something like two millions,” replied old Leger.
“He always had a taste for millions,” remarked Georges. “He began his pile surreptitiously at Presles—”
“Say nothing against Monsieur Moreau,” cried Oscar, hastily. “You ought to have learned before now to hold your tongue in public conveyances.”
Joseph Bridau looked at the one-armed officer for several seconds; then he said, smiling:—
“Monsieur is not an ambassador, but his rosette tells us he has made his way nobly; my brother and General Giroudeau have repeatedly named him in their reports.”
“Oscar Husson!” cried Georges. “Faith! if it hadn’t been for your voice I should never have known you.”
“Ah! it was monsieur who so bravely rescued the Vicomte Jules de Serizy from the Arabs?” said Reybert, “and for whom the count has obtained the collectorship of Beaumont while awaiting that of Pontoise?”
“Yes, monsieur,” said Oscar.
“I hope you will give me the pleasure, monsieur,” said the great painter, “of being present at my marriage at Isle-Adam.”